


A glad eye

by TheCrimsonValley



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 08:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrimsonValley/pseuds/TheCrimsonValley
Summary: Who would win, a grumpy old Irishman or a sweettalking powderkeg?





	A glad eye

Blood coursed through Yharnam’s veins more than alcohol did, yet the later substance came in no short supply, at least not this evening. The mugs had to be filled, the glasses clinking together. A mindless celebration to cover a slaughter, a cities attempt in washing itself clean of the bloodstains that would never go out, no matter how hard one would try.

Not that it mattered at all to him, shame and guilt was up to every person and if the other hunters wished to drink themselves silly who were he to shame them? Moonlit evenings like these were after all a reminiscence of the hunts that had unfolded before, a little drink and a warm companion by ones side were a good way to chase those events away.

Djura sniggered to himself as he pushed the tavern door open. He had one of the two items at least and getting halfway was nothing to be frowned upon. His eyes trailed down to the mugs in his hands. Of course one of them had already tipped slightly, covering some of his hand in that strong and rather foul smelling liquid that so many loved calling “sophisticated”. But between the choice of wine or whiskey, it had been obvious that his pick would be the later.

The brisk air around him seemed to clear up his head, make his mind more focused on the matters at hand. His eye peered over the surrounding street, letting the gaze fleetingly move from the few people still out and about and skipping over the drunks that had already passed out among the crates they called home. His glance came to a halt however at the massive stature of one person leaned towards a wall further away. A smile spread over Djura’s lips. Target in sight.

“What manners on you!” he exclaimed as he agilely made his way up to the other man’s side “leaving without even having one drink!”

His entrance were meet with a luke warm reception, a simple glance from under the brim of the black hat and a grunt. How charming. But somewhere, at a place of his heart that he was not ashamed to speak of, this was indeed what was rather intoxicating about Gascoigne. Rarely were there a smile upon the man’s lips, every other century there was a laughter. Most yharnamites seemed to love spreading the rumours that he was no more than a beast, dressed up as a man, a emotionless and cold killing machine.

Now he himself knew better than that of course. Not only had he had the pleasure to actually speak to this man once his lips loosened after a drink or two in the company of like minded hunters but he had also taken the liberty of speaking to the misses. And if the father was a tightly sealed tomb of old secrets, his wife was an open books ready to be read with the aid of colourful pictures. The mere thought of all the things he actually knew about this man was enough to bring a crooked smirk onto Djura’s lips once more as he joined up by the wall, leaning towards it while showing the drink into Gascoigne’s hands.

“There you go my good man.”

The glance received seemed to be one of suspicion at first, as if the drink itself would be poisoned and cause the drinker to drop dead within seconds. It took a good minute or two, and himself sipping his own drink a few times before the father even raised the cup to his lips, taking a sip and then giving a low grunt once more.

“Tastes like bile.”

Djura just sniggered at the line, letting his own mug raise to his lips. His taste was not as blessed as others, what was the point of that? Narrowing things down would only make his chances of even getting a drink slim down to disastrous proportions. Bile or not, this drink was going down with or without the blessing of Gascoigne’s taste buds.

Silence engulfed the two and it seemed to suit them just fine for the time being. Every now and then someone would leave the tavern or pass on the street, throw them a gaze and either bow slightly in respect or simply drag their coat closer and rush off. A thankless task it was. Their lives on the line at the hunts and the exile one could feel once it was over. Better to stick together and knit one another close. After all, who would understand the pain of a hunt better than a hunter.

“Cold and crisp tonight” Djura uttered, a laughter sneaking into the sentence “and the lovely moon to keep us company, how marvellous.”

Throwing a glance to his side he tried to read of if the line would even register on his companions radar. It seemed that it had but no effect followed, at least none to big or visible to his eye. A shrug of the shoulders, a slight grunt and a tipping of the hat. As good a response as most people expected out of the massive man but he himself certainly was not satisfied with it.

“Oh father, always sneaking off without sharing a laugh with the rest of us, the weight of the world on your shoulders…”

Chuckling Djura dared adding a:

“And the staleness of a lamppost to boot!”

He was granted the same mutter as before but within it was the line “hold on I have to laugh”. Though dripping with sarcasm and just the hint of annoyance, he did not let himself be discouraged. In just this short span he had managed to get more words out of Gascoigne than most had during years. Why stop when one was on a good streak?

“Now don’t you know a night like this is best shared with a warm drink… and warm company?”

Djura felt how the line left his lips before it was supposed too yet he did not let his own smile fade. If the words had been uttered he better stick to them. Only a coward would blurt out an honest thought and then take it back.

The shift in the massive man’s expression was quite the spectacle. At first it did not register, nothing changed. Then the words sank in, leaving a glance of disbelief, as if awaiting confirmation that this was nothing but a joke. Then came a quick dash of doubt, so brief it almost seemed like only a simple reflection in the man’s eye. Finally that stale grumpy look once more claimed Gascoigne’s face once more.

“I am a married man”

A response that one certainly should expect in such a situation. And one that he himself had already worked around, of course not known to the father himself. But one would be insane to step between him and his misses. Despite most hunters views of him and his intellect, Djura had done the sensible thing. Approach the woman first. With the blessing of a wife, he could dare to be as bold as he wanted.

“Oh I know that” he quickly answered “hasn’t stopped me yet, and I certainly know your little… agreement?”

It was quite the amusement to watch those expressions that seemed to pass over Gascoigne’s face in just the span of a few seconds. Everything under the sky, doubt, anger, confusion. Everything neatly packed into one man that all so easily reverted back to a sterner look once his thoughts had been gathered.

“Bullshit”

Somewhere Djura felt that he was perhaps taking too much of a delight in the treatment of the other man but there was something irresistible in teasing him, poking at all the right points and provoking out an emotion from a person that tried so hard in order to keep it all under lock and key at all moments out in public.

“Silly”

There came a rather surprised grunt from Gascoigne’s lips, as if he did not understand the words that had been uttered. This only caused Djura’s grin to grow wider then before as he simply added, on a rather snarky tone:

“The safe word is “silly”.

Perhaps it was his own imagination or prey tell, he could hear the mental crumbling of the other man’s mind. It was as if an invisible stone wall had juts vaporised into nothing but dust and left behind a man that by now didn’t even have the sense to hold that straight face as before. Instead Gascoigne’s lips remained half opened, as if in disbelief that he had actually heard right.

Then once more came a grunt and in between that he managed to make out a “damn it!” being grumbled. Hearing this, Djura could not hold back a light snicker, though he managed to choke it half by half as he was shoot the death glare. He sure did enjoy a weapon that packed a punch but it was amusing how much power there could be behind simple words.

“What do you want from me?”

Gascoigne’s words were not what he had expected, catching him only for a moment off guard. What a silly question. If he had gone through all the trouble, jumped through hoops just to get this information out of the misses what could his motives possibly be?

“Father, please reassure me you are not that daft?” he answered, giving a heaping sigh.

It was by now obvious that his fellow hunter was fighting immensely between looking embarrassed and chewing him out completely for taking the upper hand in the conversation. Whichever it was he himself could not tell if the situation was going anywhere or if this was just laughably silly in on itself.

Deciding not to let the situation slip too much out of hand, Djura moved slightly, placing himself straight in front of Gascoigne, more or less locking the man with his back towards the wall. His eye peered up, holding a stand that told that the height and musculature of his companion certainly were not intimidating to him.

“Let’s not play any silly games now, if you’re not interested I got plenty of people I could warm my bed with”

Uttering this line, he felt that smirk once more slipping over his lips as he took a quick moment to add: “Henryk seems rather interested at least”. This line granted him nothing but another grumble however.

“Well what do you want me to say?”

He did not know whatever to laugh or cry at the response. In between despair and anger he chose to see this as an improvement. At least Gascoigne was acting as if he was trying to respond to the situation accordingly. In his own stale manner of course.

“How about you give me a compliment?”

There came a distrusting mumble from the father before he lowered his head, tipping the brim of the dark hat all so slightly downwards, as if to shield himself from the other man’s gaze while thinking things through.

“You’re… peculiar”

“Wow… how absolutely flattering”

Feeling how he did not intend to hold back any of the sarcasm, Djura simply threw a more than piercing and displeased glance towards his companion. Was that even supposed to be a compliment? Or a joke? Whichever it was the attempt had been less than successful to put it lightly. Before he could think up a proper response to express his disappointment in these lines however there came a low sigh out of the other man’s mouth.

“I got a glad eye for you, that’s better?”

“Far from as romantic as I expected… but I’ll take what I get”

Djura felt how a warm smile spread over his lips as he moved in all so slightly, having to tippy toe a tad in order to at least try and meet up with Gascoigne’s lips. One could always hope for a more tender approach but by now he knew that tact and etiquette were not highly prioritized traits for the burly hunter.

Much to his surprises, he was not met with a kiss of any kind. Instead he was pushed slightly to the side, ending up with his face becoming far to familiar with the stone wall. Throwing a curse he snapped his gaze back onto Gascoigne, his eye trying to almost pierce through the man.

“Blimey, what is it now you pillock?”

“Not here!”

Gascoigne’s words came out in more of a mutter than anything and for once the father was quicker than he himself was. Feeling how one of those strong and rough hands grasped onto his arm, engulfing it completely, Djura soon found himself more or less dragged into one of the many alleyways of Yharnam. It was damp and had certainly seen more than one encounter of both the sexual and violent kind. A place where the people of little virtue would exchange their favours. However on this night it was empty.

As their steps came to a stop, the massive hand was moved from his arm and a light, almost embarrassed, frown appeared onto Gascoigne’s face as he once more lowered the brim of his hat. A mumble flew over his lips, something sounding like “there” but he could not be certain. The distance between the man’s lips and his own ears were far too long. Something he certainly needed to change.

Nimbly he moved in once more, positioning himself right in front of his companion, almost locking him in with his back towards the wall. As he leaned up this time there was no resistance or hesitation in the other man, no flinching or even signs that they would repeat their little “face to wall” action.

The texture of the other man’s lips were peculiar, one would expect them to have the same roughness to them as the rest of the man but it seemed most would be wrong on that part. It was a soft embrace, warm. A smile spread over his own lips as he raised a hand, entangling it into the white hair of Gascoigne, as good as he could at least.

He soon found himself embraced by those strong muscular arms that he had adored from a distance for such a long time. He was not ashamed to admit that he had tried to imagine how it would be, how it would feel. Warm? Protective? Thrilling? Perhaps a little bit of all of that was mixed in. He however found his old thoughts not mattering. Fantasies and speculations were behind him, what use where they when he had the real thing right here before him.

Somewhere, as his mind drifted, their kisses seemed to grow more and more intense in nature. At first it was simply testing the ice, making sure not a single step were off or wrong but after that it was as if a floodgate had simply burst open. Before long Djura could feel one of the other man’s hands tugging and stroking his hair while the other was travelling over his back in uneven patterns. The ashen hunter eagerly answered this call, letting al energy, all frustration and build up go into these kisses. 

Before long however, as he readjusted himself, he could feel that something else was getting a tad excited about the outcome of this sessions as well, causing a light grin to spread over his lips. At first he halfly expected his companion not to take notice or at least not be too quick mouthed but it seemed this time he was gravely mistaken.

“Wipe that grin of your face” Gascoigne muttered, a murmuring chuckle being added to his line “you’re not better of yourself!”

For just a split second Djura found himself a tad baffled that the father had actually managed to snap back and not only that, his words were rather well thought out. Yet a smile once more claimed its place on his lips as he gazed upwards.

“Perhaps not but at least I know how to do something about it!”

As his companions lips were left half opened, as if disbelief and surprise at the same time, he went to work. They were alone, only the occasional back window gazing their way. However he was not fooling anyone, even if someone were to potentially poke their head out he couldn’t give lesser of a damn.

Just as nimbly as before, he dropped to his knees, fingers already eagerly tucking at Gascoigne’s belt. By now the other man had certainly caught on to where this was going, nervously turning his head a couple of times, as if to make sure they were indeed undisturbed and unseen by any nosy observer. By this stage, the ashen hunter did imagine that he might receive a slap over the head for being a tad to forward with his intentions but nothing came out of it and as the belt finally gave in he was more than happy of that. It would have been quite comical to struggle so just to be greeted with a heavy blow to the head.

With the air growing colder around them, Djura decided on the less romantic route, not wasting any time. Of course one could certainly have held courting for at least ten to twenty minutes but though he was a man favouring words this was not the place for them. This slightly unfitting location was a place of actions.

As his lips started working their magic, making sure the other man’s member was warm and well seen too, he found a certain amusement in gazing up every now and then. The burly man before him was certainly struggling with keeping back the moans, not out of distaste for the actions performed but rather out of worry that someone would indeed open their window and peek outside to see what the racket was about.

One of the strong hands once more found their way towards Djura’s hair, stroking it in soft but irregular intervals. Every now and then there was a hesitation in the movement, as if Gascoigne was contemplating if he should take a stronger grasp on the hair. However, like a true gentleman, every time the hesitation came he seemed to pull himself back, simply leaving the ashen hunter to perform his gesture at his own accord.

He felt both flattered and frustrated. Of course his heart was doing backflips inside of his chest out of pure happiness that his request for this had been accepted but there was still such a stale feeling from his companions side. A deeply rooted insecurity. It certainly did not fit his appearance but even if it had it would have bothered him. Why wouldn’t he just open his lips and speak what was wrong?

“Feels good?”

Djura let his lips part from their duty, giving a soft smile up towards Gascoigne, as he remained standing there on his knees, his hands still stroking the manhood before him, as to make sure that it was not unattended to. 

“Sure does”

“Any suggestions on how to make it better?”

It was not as subtle as he would have wished too but it seemed that brave and bold would be what in the end won this race. One could certainly hold on longer, weave it like a carpet into something much more beautiful yet appropriate. Hold court for minutes on end, little hints dropped here and there. But none of these categories seemed to describe him that good.

As he was still expecting his answer he suddenly felt Gascoigne’s hands under his arms and before he could even blink he had been dragged up completely. The gesture caused him to give a surprised little noise. As his mind finally seemed to grasp what was happening he found his back pushed up against a wall, the breath of his companion upon his neck.

He had to admire the strength of this seasoned hunter. With one hand firmly planted towards the ashen hunters butt and his legs pushed up slightly, he was able to hold him in a good enough position while the free hand seemed to take on the duty of getting Djura’s own belt undone, as he had done just a few moments before.

“My, my, this is indeed better” he added, a smirk on his lips as he locked his legs around Gascoigne’s waist, if only to aid with his own weight.

No response was given but he felt a kiss onto the base of his jawline, almost where the neck began and the shivers running through his body was certainly enough to shut him up completely. The only noise being heard through the alley seemed to be their ragged breaths along with the occasional clinking of the belt as it seemed stubborn against the hands trying to get it open. However, as the wearer knew, the most stubborn of equipment sooner or later had to give in and as it finally did he breathed a sigh of relief. The pants were certainly getting too tight for his taste.

For a moment curiosity was about to take over but before the question could be uttered as to what was going to happen he felt his member seized by the strong hand once more, locked tightly together with Gascoigne’s own manhood. Djura felt his heart beating harder, it was not the scenario he had in mind and the twists and turns were exactly why he adored it so much. Perhaps he had underestimated how “predictable” this man was going to be?

He was the first to take initiative however, his hips moving all so slightly if only to test the friction and the tightness of the grip and a moan escaped without a moments hesitation. It was perfect. Though choking back the question, he did wonder if the father had done this before. Most newcomers to this act would tend to grip either too harshly or so softly one could barley feel a thing.

His lips were once more caught by the other man’s and as he tried to steady the rhythm of his hips to go along with the movement of Gascoigne’s hands, their session of passionate kisses once more picked up where it had left. In between there was low moans from them both, mixing with grunts and even an occasional compliment. Whispered into his ear, he could hear the strong hunter before him compliment his appearance, his warmth, even a chuckle and an add on how he was impossible but how his companion adored that about him. 

Though it certainly was a matter of seconds, Djura’s mind were the first to let go, a colourless explosion happening inside of his mind and a loud moan rising to the sky. It was soon joined by Gascoigne’s and as the afterglow set in, they both stood there, though he would have used the words “hung” more for his own position, catching their breaths.

“That was quite lovely”

His words escaped him along with a light laugher as he managed to free the death grip his legs had onto his fellow hunters waist. As his legs, wobbly in nature by now, almost did not carry him he felt once more the strong hands catching him.

“Easy there!”

“I’m okay, just need to regain the balance”

While they both adjusted their attire, making sure to cover up whatever mess was left and both making shameful notes on how a washing or two would be needed, there was little to no noise between them. There were gestures, a slight stroke of the hand or a glance from his own side but no more than that.

Of course now came the hard part. Separating. Their business were done and perhaps that was all that Gascoigne wished to keep it as. He would not fault him for that, he had never expressed a desire for more, not out loud at least. As the silence became suffocating between the two, their gestures growing fewer Djura cleared his throat.

“Well… I should really think of getting back to my bed now, think the drink is going to my head!”

It was a pathetic line in comparison to how he usual managed to put things into a good sentence, or at least a satisfactory one. It would have to do. The silence were worse than any words spoken and now it had at least been said. He would take what he could get, wouldn’t be greedy, wouldn’t demand more than the other hunter was willing to give him.

He was only halfway through his turn as he felt that strong hand once more grasping his arm, tugging him in another direction and causing him to glance upwards once more. Gascoigne’s head was once more turned away slightly, the brim of his hat pushed down as if to avoid any glances. However, no matter how big a brim the hat had, it could not cover the fact that even in this faint light the ashen hunter could make out those blushing cheeks.

“I’ve seen your house… just come stay with me tonight!”

An invite? Well was this man not full of surprises? A tender smile came over Djura’s lips as he moved up to his companions side, keeping even steps with him as they made their way through the alleyway once more.

“My what an appetite you have, are you already suggesting pushing the beds together and let the misses join us?”

“Don’t push your luck!”


End file.
